


Waiting

by Medie



Category: Smallville
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-02-22
Updated: 2010-02-22
Packaged: 2017-10-07 11:35:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 647
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/64791
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Medie/pseuds/Medie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Chloe could get used to this</p>
            </blockquote>





	Waiting

**Author's Note:**

> written for [](http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/profile)[**oxoniensis**](http://oxoniensis.livejournal.com/)'s porn battle

She likes Star City a lot more than she thought she would. Nothing like Metropolis, even less like Gotham, Star City's home in a way she didn't see coming.

Not that she really has a lot of foresight where Ollie's involved.

Chloe wakes at dawn, there's a dozen roses on her windowsill. She rolls her eyes and puts them with the others.

*

Her coffee's already made so she puts on toast and listens to the morning news - the Green Arrow uncovering corruption in the city's waste management department. Mobsters in garbage, who knew?

On the screen, Monica's tone is pleasant but Chloe knows better. Her article in the Gazette comes complete with pictures and a quote from the Arrow himself.

She feels the weighted crystal of the arrow pendant heavy between her breasts and grins.

Pillow talk makes the best quotes.

*

Night in the city is cool lacking the bitter edge of Metropolis after dusk. She stands on her roof and looks out at the bay, feels more than hears him approach.

"Dangerous to be out this late," says the Green Arrow.

She looks over her shoulder, grins at her reflection in his glasses and crooks a finger.

His hands find her hips the same moment his lips touch her mouth and she leans back into him, feels the press of leather through the cotton of her dress. "So?"

He grins into her kiss; she feels his hands tug fabric out of his way. "Who knows what kind of trouble a girl like you could get into out here."

She closes her eyes and sighs, an opportunity his tongue doesn't pass up. Outside of the kiss, there's the rustle of zipper and cloth and then she's leaning over, hands curling against brick with his body pressing up tight. His mouth has moved to her ear, lips tracing the skin and making her shiver. "Or was that the plan?"

Chloe grins and looks at the horizon, the city she's coming to love. Her eyes grow heavy-lidded with the tightening of his grip on her hips, quick and firm movement of his body. "Seems to be working, isn't it?" She says, the wind in her face reminding her just where they are.

Gloved fingers find her clit and she bits down on her lower lip, muffling the groan. She can hear the laughter in his voice when he agrees, "Got a point there."

She laughs, pushes back to meet his thrust and it's his breath that catches. "Someone does."

His response is bare fingers replacing glove, sliding over and around her clit in silent accompaniment to their bodies' motion until she can't stop the wordless cry that spills out of her into the night air.

He comes before she can recover; she's caught up again on the sound of her name pleading from his lips. When he slides from her, hands pulling away slowly over her body, she doesn't turn.

When she does, he's gone.

*

"Miss Sullivan," Oliver Queen lounges against his limo when she emerges from her apartment building, waiting for her as always. "You're late. I'm not used to being kept waiting."

She tilts her head back, meets his gaze and sees the Arrow grinning back in his eyes. "Sorry, but the billionaire playboy thing got old and unimpressive a few states back."

He coughs over a snicker and holds out a hand. "Well, we can still catch the second half."

She lets him sweep her into the limo and they wait for the driver.

When the motion of the car pushes her against him, Ollie slides her over onto his lap, hands sliding up her skirt. "You hate opera," she reminds with a laugh, feeling fingertips curling beneath her panties.

She leans over, the pendant swinging free of her dress and he grins.

"Yeah," his fingers find heat, making her sigh, "but it's a private booth."


End file.
